


Yonder Window Breaks

by LastHope



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Broken Bones, Gen, Guilty!Izaya, Izaya doesn't know what emotions are, Izaya is very impulsive, Middle School!Izaya, Middle School!Shinra, Raijin Days, implied child abuse/neglect, implied trauma, this has nothing to do with shakespeare im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6299011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastHope/pseuds/LastHope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's like Romeo and Juliet. Well, almost. If Juliet had had a constable-mandated restraining order against Romeo, and if Romeo had been falsely accused of stabbing Juliet. …Okay, so it's nothing like Romeo and Juliet.</p>
<p>Or, Izaya climbs three-stories to visit Shinra in the hospital and Shingen doesn't believe either of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yonder Window Breaks

It hurts to breathe through the throbbing of his nose, but he suffers through it anyways as he takes a deep breath. He’s about to take the cake with the stupid things he’s done for the day – let alone the _week_ – but he tells himself it’s worth it. After all, he’s already let himself be falsely charged with stabbing someone, broke out from family-imposed house arrest, among the usual suspects for the week, so what’s breaking a restraining order?

Izaya takes a running start, and starts to scale the side of the hospital.

He’s never done this before, with or without equipment. It’s probably _the_ dumbest thing he’s done in his life, but as the wind whips by his face, aggravating the blood crusting on his upper lip, Izaya thinks it’s worth it. Scaling the building takes all the strength he’s just started to gain from practicing parkour – _never_ again will he be trapped on a lamppost for _five hours_ thanks to _dogs_ of all things – and halfway there he starts to regret his decision. His arms are burning, his fingertips hurt, and the throbbing from his face and inability to breathe properly doesn’t help any. Gritting his teeth though, he forces himself to keep climbing. He’s at the second story – he just has to make it up one more, and then he just has to figure out how to get in through the window.

Ah… Maybe he should have thought of that before he started… Oh well, it’s too late now.

Izaya doesn’t know how long it’s been since he started climbing, but by the time his fingers grip the sill of the third-story window he’s been aiming for, there’s sweat coating him. It makes him slightly grateful for his choice of wearing shorts and a light hoodie – not only does it help hide his identity, but it makes it slightly cooler. Doesn’t help with the scratches he causes by scraping his bare legs against the side of the building, but in cases like this one does have to make sacrifices.

The window is open, and Izaya is extremely thankful. He doesn’t know what he would have done if the window was shut. It’s doubtful that he would have had the strength to pry the window open from the outside, and he’s not certain if he’s achieved the level of balance necessary yet to do so either. This all requires a certain level of mind over matter ability, a confidence level in oneself and abilities, and while Izaya was right in placing confidence that he could scale three stories of a hospital without prior experience, this is where his experience falls short.

There’s a screen in the window, but it’s not locked, and it’s a simple enough matter to slide it open. Left arm holds most of his minimal body weight curled against the window sill, his mind tries not to think of the three-story drop that would surely kill, if not seriously maim, him if he fell, and his right arm fumbles with the screen, sliding it open, and then quickly reaching through to grasp the other side of the window sill. He quickly pulls himself in through the window, dropping on the floor with an audible thud.

Voices sound outside, the police members set outside the door to make sure he didn’t come and try to ‘finish the job’ or something, and Izaya holds himself absolutely still against the dark of the wall, hoping that if they come in they don’t notice him.

The door cracks open, and Izaya holds his breath.

“Sorry, I knocked something over!” The person in the bed chirps overly-cheerfully, “Don’t worry, it wasn’t anything important, you can leave now!”

Hesitantly, the door shuts, and Izaya huffs a breath of relief as he raises his head to look into the inquisitive eyes of Kishitani Shinra.

“Wow!” Shinra sounds amazed, voice low so as not to alert the police officers outside of his hospital room. Izaya creeps closer, settling himself in a hunching slouch in the seat next to Shinra’s bed. He wants to preen, certain that he’s about to get complimented on the fact that he just scaled three-stories to visit his best friend when – “Your face is completely messed up, Izaya! What happened?”

Oh.

Izaya shuffles awkwardly in his seat. Raises a hand to brush the area around his nose, and buries the urge to flinch when he barely even touches the dried blood on his upper lip. He doesn’t think of the overwhelming panic that overtook him when he saw the blood fill his hands and all he could think about was Shinra, leaving Shinra alone in the classroom, the idea that Shinra could die and it would have been _his fault_ –

He reels back at the sudden appearance of Shinra’s hand, firmly poking the area just to the side of his nose. Digging his teeth into his bottom lip, Izaya doesn’t cry out though he wants to, the pain unbearable, eyes watering.

“I think your nose is broken,” Shinra states matter-of-factly.

“No kidding,” Izaya gasps when Shinra moves his hand, words slurred and muffled because every breath through his nose hurts and not all sounds come out right when even the slightest pressure on his nasal cavity makes talking not worth it. He knew it was broken the instant it occurred – he could hear the crunch of cartilage crumpling, and Izaya knew that bloody noses didn’t bleed as much as broken ones did.

“What happened?” Shinra repeats, cocking his head to the side, like he’s trying to puzzle out the solution himself. The expression looks very similar to concern, and it sets off a confounding fluttering of its own in Izaya’s stomach, a mix of emotions that he’s not quite sure what he’s feeling.

“My uncle,” His stomach’s fluttering confuses him enough to allow the truth to slip from Izaya’s mouth before he could think of an appropriate excuse. “Didn’t appreciate me ‘shaming the family name’ by stabbing you.” Still, he manages a hollow laugh and small crack of a smile towards Shinra, even when Shinra frowns.

“You know,” He starts hesitantly, “We can still –”

There’s what looks to be guilt on Shinra’s face, and a hard lump of something settling in Izaya’s stomach that he decidedly does not like.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Izaya hurriedly waves him off. “Besides, if we hadn’t done this, I wouldn’t have had the chance to scale three-stories up the side of the hospital!” He throws out his arms as he diverts conversation topics to avoid the one he knows Shinra wants to bring up. (His family is normal, _is_ _normal._ ) “What do you think? Pretty amazing, ne?”

“Pretty stupid if you ask me,” Shinra relents reluctantly. “What were you thinking? You could have fallen to your death!”

He was thinking that he wanted to visit his best friend. He was thinking that it was the sort of thing people were _supposed_ to do when the wanted to visit someone they cared about but were barred from visiting for some reason. He wasn’t thinking, he realizes. Not really. He had been overcome by a desire to prove to himself that Shinra was okay, and that’s why he scaled three-stories. That’s why he broke out of the room he had been locked in by his uncle, why he’s risking arrest for breaking a restraining order, why he’s risking another beating, just to visit Shinra.

Because Izaya needs to have visual confirmation that Shinra is okay.

“But,” He replies instead of answering, “I scaled _three-stories_ without being caught. Come on, you’re impressed, aren’t you?”

“Sure,” Shinra nods in agreement, “Impressed by your stupidity – come on, I thought you were one of the smartest students in our year?” Izaya frowns. Shinra is supposed to be amazed at his audacity to break rules, and ability to perform abnormal feats, not lecture him on what may or may not be stupid actions in hindsight.

“Shinraaaa,” He can’t help but whining, braving through the pain that comes from drawing out his best friend’s name in order to make a point. He wants _praise._

“Ugh, lean closer,” Shinra rolls his eyes in annoyance, and Izaya, against what he will soon realize to be his better judgment, leans forward. “Your voice is starting to annoy me.” But before Izaya can reel back in hurt from Shinra’s words, heart already strangely throbbing from what Shinra’s said, Shinra’s thumbs are on either side of his nose and that’s all the warning Izaya receives before Shinra jerks them to the side and cracks his nose back into place.

“ _Jesus Christ!”_ Izaya can’t help but yelp, before Shinra can shush him, and he has to drop down and roll quickly under Shinra’s hospital bed as the door all but slams open when the police officer on duty hears him.

It no longer hurts as much to breathe, but Izaya doesn’t even do that when he sees the uniform shoes enter the room from under the bed. He bites his lip, and tries to think of anything aside from the throbbing in his face, the throbbing of his heart, the idea that this could be it, that Shinra could sell him out –

“Psst, hey! Izaya!” Shinra whispers, dragging him out of his thoughts. “The officer’s gone, are you going to come out or what?”

“I’m coming,” Izaya shimmies out from under the bed, taking his seat once more. Once he’s seated, he makes a grand procedure about fussing over his nose. At least, the parts of it he can stand to touch through the pain. “Wow, you really did fix my nose, didn’t you? Thanks Shinra!”

“You should still get it seen by a proper doctor,” Shinra dismisses Izaya’s praise, though he does seem pleased by it, and the smile he’s trying to hide does funny things to Izaya’s already oddly unsettled stomach. “You might need surgery after all, but even if you don’t they’d at least give you something for the pain.”

“Maybe,” Izaya shrugs listlessly, already knowing that he won’t, knowing that he doesn’t want to deal with the questions that will undoubtedly arise.

“How long are they keeping you here?” He asks instead, changing the topic.

“Ah, a few more days I think,” Shinra hums, “Probably won’t miss more than a week of school at most, if that. Why, are you offering already to bring me my homework?” It’s said slyly, like he knows something that Izaya doesn’t.

“Like I’d be allowed even two steps into your apartment complex at this point,” Izaya scoffs, and Shinra laughs in agreement. “Remember? Restraining order.”

“Oh, yeah, my dad told me about that,” Shinra nods, neither commenting how Izaya’s currently breaking said restraining order. “Said the police insisted on it or something.”

“Apparently they’re worried I might try and ‘finish the job’,” Izaya comments, using finger quotes and all, gaining another laugh from Shinra and causing another twisty feeling in his stomach that Izaya still can’t find a name for. Both boys don’t say how Izaya was the real target, don’t mention how it should have been Izaya lying in the hospital bed.

Izaya knows it should have been him. He knows that had Shinra not been an idiot, Izaya could have possibly prevented either of them from getting stabbed. He knows that had he not been determined to make Nakura pay for what he did, what he tried to do, for nearly killing Shinra, he wouldn’t be the one with the black mark on his record, he wouldn’t have a broken nose, wouldn’t be sneaking into a third floor hospital room through the window due to an ill-placed restraining order.

He doesn’t regret it.

They fall into a silence that’s only broken when Izaya, with some hesitance overshadowed by the confidence in his voice, says,

“Ne, I bet I can get Nakura to transfer out of Raira before you come back to school.”

“What makes it a bet?” Shinra asks, “You say you’re going to do it, and you will. With your personality and what happened, you could probably get him to transfer before the end of the day tomorrow.”

“Ah, it seems you are correct,” Izaya concedes, a pleased feeling settling in on top of the other knots clogging his throat.

From his pocket, his phone starts vibrating. Pulling it out, the number showing up on the caller ID has no name attached, but that doesn’t mean Izaya’s oblivious to who’s calling him. Someone apparently went to check and discovered that he wasn’t under house arrest like he’s supposed to.

“Time for you to go, I’m guessing,” There’s the oddly pensive look on Shinra’s face as he comments in a neutral tone of voice even as Izaya ignores the call. It’s the look on his face that tells Izaya that he wants to make an observation about the other’s home life but think Izaya will take it the wrong way. He wonders how often Shinra’s observations hit the mark, and Izaya decides he doesn’t want to know, because Izaya can recognize the sinking feeling in his gut as acknowledgment that Shinra’s probably more accurate than not.

“Unfortunately,” He sighs, standing from the seat cautiously, before waltzing to the window. He doesn’t look down as he opens the window a bit wider, taking a moment to calculate how he’s going to go about rappelling down the wall.

“Be careful,” Shinra calls softly, before following it up with, “Stay safe.”

As he swings his leg out the window, and slowly lowers himself out into the night, he almost manages to convince himself that Shinra meant something different behind his words than he really did.

He narrows his attention after that to safely rappelling down the side of the wall, and muses the merits of just sleeping on a park bench for the night. Probably would be safer, he determines. Though the bruises he’d earn by going home might freak Nakura out more tomorrow at school – of course, _if_ Nakura managed to overcome the guilt and dragged himself to school.

Caught in his thoughts, Izaya doesn’t notice that the second floor window is open as he climbs down past it until he’s bracing a hand along the top of the window to steady himself, and a man with a gas mask – who he belatedly recognizes as Shinra’s father – has grabbed his free arm and unceremoniously yanks him into the room.

* * *

Shingen notices the kid as he’s leaving his son’s hospital room. Scrawny, dressed in black shorts and a black hoodie, it doesn’t take him too long to discern that it’s his son’s friend – Orihara something. He has the hood pulled up, and it’s obvious to Shingen that the kid is sneaking around, trying to figure out what room Shinra’s in without getting in trouble.

He doesn’t see the problem in loudly and over-theatrically declaring which room number is his son’s, not when he’s interested in seeing what Orihara-kun does with the information. The boy hovers around the corner for a few more moments, before darting back downstairs.

Just because he had his hood pulled up doesn’t mean that Shingen didn’t see the blood on his lip, or the bruising on his cheeks and the crooked slant to his nose.

Shingen follows.

Contrary to his eccentric ways, Shingen does care for his son. He may have an odd way of showing it, and Celty may still refuse to refer to him as her father, but Shingen does make sure that they are provided for. In his time working for Nebula, and doing some underground work as well, Shingen has seen many examples of children who did not have caring parents or weren’t properly provided for, as well as the outcomes of such children.

The scrawny boy his son proclaimed as one of his two sole friends outside of Celty, the one shouldering the blame of stabbing his son, Shingen has diagnosed as a victim of such lack of care. Shingen has only properly met with the boy two or three times – Shinra is always unwilling to let his poor father meet his friends for some reason, despite Shingen’s best efforts – but he’s confident in this diagnosis. There are warning signs one can spot if they know where to look.

For example, Orihara-kun is a scrawny boy. While in itself is not worrisome, as some kids have high metabolisms, he is very obviously underweight and shows some signs of malnourishment. When he was over for dinner the second time Shingen met the boy, he demonstrated a hesitance in eating. Highly uncertain if he was permitted more food, which Celty and Shinra practically forced the boy to take regardless, Orihara-kun had also showed confusion at the fact that the meal wasn’t take out, and that Shingen himself was present at the meal.

Shingen diagnosed him as having neglectful, absentee parents, and resolved to keep an eye on the boy and his interactions with Shinra. He knows how boys with family backgrounds like Orihara-kun’s turn out, and Shingen is interested in how resilient the boy will turn out to be. Shingen never thought that the boy would turn out to be the type of person who would stab his son.

But then again, Shingen ponders as he stands in the hospital parking lot, it’s possible that Orihara-kun didn’t stab Shinra. After all, he decides, watching Orihara-kun size up the side of the hospital, looking for the window that houses Shinra’s room and orienting towards it before taking a running start towards the hospital wall, people who stab others don’t typically tend to visit their victims.

Shingen stays long enough to watch Orihara-kun obtain a decent grip and have a good headway up the exterior wall of the hospital before wandering back inside.

He wanders around the hospital until he finds the room right underneath his son’s. It’s empty, so Shingen decides to commandeer it. Looking out the window, he determines that Orihara-kun has already made it past this floor – looking up gives him the sight of Orihara-kun’s chicken legs disappearing into his son’s window – so he settles back to wait.

Shingen leaves the window open, and waits maybe a half hour, an hour, he doesn’t keep track of the time, until Orihara-kun’s scrawny legs come shimmying down past the window. He stands up and makes his way over, waiting for Orihara-kun to be appropriately positioned for Shingen to easily pull him into the room.

While Orihara-kun is catching his balance against the window, Shingen takes the opportunity. He grabs the boy’s free hand, pulling him into the room with one arm while his other hand goes to cover Orihara-kun’s mouth to keep him from crying out and calling attention to the room.

Orihara-kun doesn’t cry out in surprise, which is a bit disappointing, though he holds his body quite stiffly, like he’s expecting Shingen to do something.

“Kishitani-san,” The boy greets hesitantly and respectfully when Shingen releases him, nervous for some reason. Shingen’s not sure why, but dismisses it. He also chooses to ignore how the boy’s eyes dart towards the window.

“Orihara-kun,” Shingen greets in kind and perhaps a bit over-exuberantly. “Visiting Shinra, I see! Might’ve been easier using a door, like everyone else though!”

“Is there something you needed, Kishitani-san?” Orihara-kun is fingering something in the pocket of his hoodie, and while Shingen doesn’t believe it to be a knife he doesn’t dismiss the possibility. Ah, if that’s the case Shingen hopes he’s not allergic to any of the compounds that make up a general sedative. Not that he’d be too terribly distressed if the boy was.

“Yes, yes! I had a question for you, Orihara-kun,” Shingen agrees, and gestures for the boy to sit down on the bed, which he does reluctantly. He’s short enough and the bed is tall enough that his toes don’t quite brush the floor as Shingen takes a seat in the bedside chair.

As he studies the boy, he notices that Orihara-kun’s nose is a bit straighter than when he last saw him.

“Shinra set your nose, I see!” He comments, the deduction readily available to him. It also sets in stone his theory – Orihara-kun is not the one responsible for stabbing his son. Unless Shinra is extorting the boy for some reason, Shingen doubts that his son would have the patience of dealing with the person responsible for stabbing with him and kindly set their nose for them. Shinra would either leave them be or make it worse. Learned it from him, undoubtedly!

“He did,” Orihara-kun agrees cautiously. Suspicion is alight in his eyes, the eyes of someone who has been tricked before and doesn’t appreciate it. Interesting, interesting! “Is that your question, Kishitani-san?”

“No, no!” Shingen shakes his head. He leans forward a bit and Orihara-kun shuffles back a little. “Did you stab my son?”

“Yes,” There’s a slight puzzled look to Orihara-kun’s face, but the response is almost immediate. Shingen can tell that Orihara-kun is confused as to why he’s asking this question. After all, there was a lot of time spent earlier in the day hashing this out.

“Then my question is this, Orihara-kun,” And he points at the boy for emphasis and a bit of dramatic flair perhaps, “Why did you stab Shinra, your best friend?”

Orihara-kun seems caught off-guard at the question, and the way his eyes flick about tell him that he’s scrambling for an answer. He doesn’t have an answer, or one that he thinks would qualify as appropriate.

Shingen’s dealt with many criminals before, and they’ve all had entertaining reasons for why they committed the crimes they did. But that was the difference between the criminals Shingen dealt with and Orihara-kun – they had _reasons_. Even if they were petty, asinine reasons, they were still reasons! Obviously, Orihara-kun didn’t have a reason to stab Shinra if he couldn’t produce on for him. Which meant that Orihara-kun didn’t do it.

“Last question!” Shingen announces, as the boy is sputtering the word “because” like if he repeats it enough it will help him create an answer. He stands and places his hands on the boy’s shoulders, and stares down at the boy in what he hopes to be an intimidating fashion. “Who stabbed my son, Orihara-kun?”

“I-I did!” Sputters the boy, “I stabbed him! Who cares about the reason, I’m the one who stabbed him!”

“Now, now Orihara-kun,” Shingen says, “We both know you didn’t stab Shinra. You’ve already been punished –” Shingen can feel a shudder run down Orihara-kun’s body, interesting! He diagnoses physical abuse as well for the boy’s home life. “–enough, so why don’t you come clean already with the real culprit.”

“ _I am the real culprit!_ ” The boy snarls, arms coming up to break the loose hold Shingen has on his shoulders. He doesn’t move off of the bed, but there’s a cornered look to his eyes that tell Shingen he’s not afraid to get physically violent if he must. Shingen concedes and moves back a little to give the boy space. He doesn’t move his eyes from Orihara-kun’s. “It’s my fault he got stabbed, so it might as well have been me who stabbed him! Who cares who was actually holding the knife?”

“I see, I see,” Shingen nods. The boy’s feelings for his son are quite clear, and he feels momentary pity. Momentary. He doesn’t relent though. “So, who stabbed Shinra, Orihara-kun?”

Orihara-kun punches him.

Teeth grit, eyes wound shut, he balls his left hand into a fist – thumb tucked in, that’s no way to punch someone! He could break his thumb like that – and slams it with some force into the underside of Shingen’s jaw in the mockery of a videogame uppercut. Shingen’s teeth click together painfully, and he’s certain it will bruise, but he can take a weak punch from a middle schooler. He has the element of surprise on his side when he grabs Orihara-kun’s arm, holding it in place, and pulling the sedative out of his pocket.

“Do I need to ask again?” Shingen asks as he holds the syringe in what he believes to pass for a threatening manner.

“Why, so you can get revenge yourself?” The boy mocks, breathless, fear alight in his eyes, but a feral look as well, one that screams that if he’s going down, he’s not going down alone. He seems to be very self-destructive, Shingen determines. No wonder he allowed himself to take the blame for a crime he didn’t commit. “No way. _That_ person is going to hold a life debt to me and Shinra for as long as he lives. For stabbing him, and for me taking the fall – I’m going to make that person regret what they did _every_ _single day_. They won’t be able to see our names, be able to even _think_ of us without feeling guilt for what they did, for what could have turned out. And there is _no way_ I am letting you take that away from me.”

Shingen commends him for the use of gender neutral pronouns, as it doesn’t give him much way of a marker for who did it. Same for anything that could have given him an age bracket to go on – was it a fellow student, was it a teacher? Only Orihara-kun, Shinra, and the actual criminal knew for certain.

Mulling over Orihara-kun’s words, he decides to accept the boy’s punishment for the real criminal, and releases him. Not a moment too soon, Shingen realizes, as when he releases Orihara-kun, the boy stumbles to right his balance, lowering his leg from where it was aiming up towards Shingen’s groin. Just like a wild animal caught in a corner, willing to do anything to survive! Interesting, the boy’s development is very interesting to Shingen.

He chortles, and gives Orihara-kun a pat on the head as he pockets the sedative. Shingen doesn’t miss the look of bewilderment the boy gives him, or the distasteful shake of his head as he dismisses Shingen as just crazy. Ah, he’ll just let the boy believe what he will.

“It’s after curfew, isn’t it Orihara-kun?” Shingen dismisses the previous conversation topic, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder and steering him towards the door. “Your family will be concerned if they discover you’re not at home in bed!”

He doesn’t miss how Orihara-kun’s face tightens at that, hand messing with something in the pocket of his hoodie. Not a knife, Shingen determines finally – if it was, Orihara-kun would have pulled it on him in the solitary room, not in a hall where any nurse or doctor passing by could see them – but more than likely a phone. Shingen wonders if the tightening of Orihara-kun’s face is due to no one being at home to care about his disappearance, or the presence of someone at home who won’t take kindly to his disappearance.

Well, it’s not his business about the boy’s home life if he doesn’t want to talk about it. Shingen can’t do anything with idle speculation or a broken nose that anyone or thing could have caused. Better to see how Orihara-kun handles the situation, and what becomes of him instead.

He escorts the boy all the way to the entrance of the hospital, just in case he wants to try and cause any funny business. That, and Shingen isn’t unaware to how Orihara-kun just blatantly violated the restraining order the police insisted they take against the boy. If he’s escorted out, and not seen breaking and entering, they can play tricks on his identity.

Which Shingen does as they reach the lobby of the hospital, and he feels Orihara-kun brace to bolt from his grip.

“Now Hachimenroppi-kun,” He announces boisterously, slicing through the quiet of the lobby as they enter, “Remember to take the prescribed pain medications and to come back if you experience any problems with your nose!”

Orihara-kun seems bewildered at Shingen’s declaration, his brow furrowing only for a moment before catching on to what Shingen is doing.

“Kishitani-sensei,” The receptionist sighs disapprovingly before Orihara-kun can say anything. “Just because your son is staying here doesn’t mean you can go poaching patients!”

“Yes, yes, I understand Hana-san,” Shingen waves her off. “It won’t happen again!”

“Do you want to see another doctor, Hachimenroppi-chan?” The receptionist directs her attention to Orihara-kun, and Shingen is surprised that she remembers the name he made up off of the top of his head for the boy. Orihara-kun doesn’t seem to realize she’s talking to him at first, before taking offense to the receptionist’s choice of honorific. Of course, it can’t be helped with how scrawny and slight the boy is.

“No thank you Hana-san.” He politely refuses, his demeanor completely opposite from how he was a few minutes prior. It seemed like an effortless change, and Shingen is amazed.

“Are you certain?” She presses, and Orihara-kun gives a slight nod.

“Yes, Hana-san.” He repeats. “I should be getting home.” Orihara-kun turns to Shingen, and with some reluctance offers a slight bow to the older man. “Thank you Kishitani-sensei.”

And he goes and disappears out the door before anyone can say anything else.

“Did he say how his nose was broken?” The receptionist asks as soon as Orihara-kun disappears, and before Shingen can make his escape as well.

“No,” Shingen replies, because he quite honestly didn’t hold any concern for the boy’s injury – sure he speculated on the cause, but he didn’t outright ask. It wasn’t his concern after all!

“It was probably a family member,” The receptionist bites at her lip, fumbling with documents behind her desk. “You should probably fill out an abuse form report, Kishitani-sensei.”

But Shingen doesn’t hold a fondness for paperwork, avoiding his own even at Nebula and making some hapless intern fill it out for him instead.

“He’s fine,” Shingen waves her off, and ignores her squawking insistence at him filling out the forms even as he leaves to head home for the night.

Orihara-kun is resilient after all. He’ll find a way to survive.

* * *

Nearly ten years later finds Orihara Izaya scaling the side of an apartment complex in the dead of night. This time, he doesn’t bear a broken nose, though he does bear a slice on his cheek from a close encounter with a different sort of monster than the one from his youth. Just like nearly ten years prior, the window is wide open, and he rolls inside with far more grace than he once lacked.

“Jesus Izaya, why didn’t you just use the door like a normal person?” The person confined to the bed chides, “It’s not like you’ve never picked the lock before.”

Sitting on the floor, Izaya takes in the bruised and battered body of Kishitani Shinra, drinks in the broken arm, the broken leg, all the wounds that he could have done something to prevent. He sits there and is starkly reminded of the situation at the end of middle school. His heart clenches oddly, and a hot-cold feeling slides down and suffocates his throat as he forces himself to stop thinking about it. Closing his eyes, Izaya tilts his head to the side and smiles –

“But where would the fun in that be?”

– and wonders if he’s the only one who remembers.

* * *

 


End file.
